


A Smile Reflected

by ZsadistCortel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, England falls, Gen, M/M, No American Involvement in WWII, No Pearl Harbor, The Blitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZsadistCortel/pseuds/ZsadistCortel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WWII AU.  America never entered the war and England continues to fight alone after France falls to the Axis powers.  When all seems lost England makes a final sacrifice to protect his people and the future of someone he loves.  America has to live with the consequences of his inaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Smile Reflected

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters depicted in this story.

WWII:

            England looked up into the red sky above him.  His once brilliant green eyes were hazy about the edges.  His vision swam in and out of focus.  His breathe rasped out from between chapped, split lips his parched tongue could no longer soothe.  He lay in a shallow puddle in the middle of what had once been a busy urban street, the water chilling his body even as the cold cloak of Death slowly descended upon him.  His city was empty.  London was barren.  But his people were safe.  He had made sure of that.

            The personification of Britain felt a nudge in the back of his fogged mind.  If he concentrated, he would be able to see flashes of boats drifting nearer to his island, floating menacingly into the outskirts of his ocean territory and ever closer.  The nation let out a pained groan.  He would make sure all was done before they could reach his shores.  This land that was his body, this nation that was his life, he would not let anyone take it from him.  “My friends,” England murmured.  “I require your assistance…,” he broke off for a hacking cough and blood dribbled from his mouth.  “…One last time.”  For a few moments the street remained lifeless and empty, a foreshadowing of what was to come. 

England sighed in relief as hazy balls of light floated toward him and steps echoed seemingly from nowhere as they came closer to his weakened body.  “I need your strength, your magic.  I won’t be able to do this alone.”  He shakily raised one hand up to touch the closest hazy orb of light.  “Please…,” he begged.  “Help them live.  He will keep them safe as I am no longer able.”  There was quiet for a moment before a light tinkling, like the clearest bell, filled the air.  It was a mournful sound.  England dropped his hand and breathed out a whispered thanks to the fae around him.  They would help him.  They would be his strength this one last time, for the lives of his people and for the future of the one he loved.

The wind came up suddenly, and the few streetlights still unbroken began to flicker ominously.  England chanted from where he lay, the tinkling voices of the fae joining him.  A light began to form over his chest, spreading until it covered his entire body in an eerie green-blue light.  It felt warm and he relished the comfort of the light while he could.  A sudden flash of ships drawing nearer pulled him from his moment of respite.  He sucked in a deep breath and lifted his tired arms from the ground, pushing outward.  The light that had encompassed his body stretched and flowed outward, expanding rapidly to cover the entirety of the British Isles and out to sea where it pushed back the approaching ships with spiteful force.  A single tendril split from the body of light and sped across the Atlantic Ocean, gaining speed and finally crashing into the body of a blond nation with a brown bomber jacket and glasses.

America fell to his knees as the magical light struck and entered him.  He pulsed that same green-blue for a moment, before dropping to his knees in agony.  He felt the connection take hold as England slowly transferred all that had been his own to the young nation he had loved for so long.  America could see England in his mind’s eye, broken and dying, but still strong enough to ensure with his dying breathes that his people would be safe.  America raged within his mind, fighting the connection.  “No!” He caved in upon himself in horror.  “You can’t do this!  I don’t want it!  You can’t die!”  He writhed in pain as the spirit of the other nation latched on, granting him a connection to his new lands as they slowly became a part of him.  He could see the life draining from England, feel the other nation fading as the transfer progressed.  “You weren’t supposed to die!”

America felt the guilt well up within him.  He thought of the older nation who had found him and raised him, who had protected him in childhood, and who had loved him even after he threw that love back in his face and left England crying in the rain.  He should have done something.  He should have sent help.  He should have gotten involved in the war.  He shouldn’t have been so selfish.  How could he ever call himself a hero after this?  Tears fell freely from his cerulean eyes.  “I just wanted to stay out of Europe’s wars.  I’m sorry!”  America cried out, as though England could hear him.  And maybe he could.  “Please…,” America sobbed.  “Don’t leave me…”  The light that had surrounded England was beginning to fade away.  His breathing grew more and more labored.  America whispered soft pleas in between his sobs.  “I love you!  I love you!”  The connection began to weaken and America grew frantic, yanking at his hair, trying to will the other nation back to health.  “PLEASE!  Please, England…don’t leave me alone…”  He forced the connection to hold on, willed his mind to stay focused on the fading nation’s location.

England looked up into the sky and, in his mind’s eye, he locked gazes with America.  A soft smile spread across his face.  It was peaceful and resigned and full of so much love that it hurt to look at it.  America’s tear stained face was the last clear thing he’d ever see.  “There you are,” England murmured lovingly as his eyes slipped closed.  “There you are…”  The connection shattered and America screamed.

 


End file.
